


Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly

by ilietomyselfallthetime



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bowers gang is good??, Child Abuse, F/M, Greta is a bitch, Henry is actually really good wat, M/M, Stanley Uris-centric, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, all ships are refrenced early on but take a while, eddie is an angel, other losers seem bad at first but theres 7 sides to every story, out of character since im bad at writing, reddie is for like 10 minutes chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-08-27 12:46:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16702867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilietomyselfallthetime/pseuds/ilietomyselfallthetime
Summary: Stan is in love with Richie, but Richie pushes him away. Unlikely friends come out of the weirdest places.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is trash

Stanley Uris wasn’t in love. At least that is what he told himself, or anyone else who asked him if he had ever been in love.  


The truth was, he was helplessly fucked. Since the second he laid eyes on Richie Tozier’s dorky face in second grade, Stan was madly in love with him (even though he didn't know at first). Even after all they’d been through, Stan wanted nothing more than to hold the boy in his arms and protect him from the world. Richie of course, didn’t need protection, but Stan figured he’d be there anyway.  


By no means, was Stan a coward. Others thought so, bullies, his family, even most of the losers. Hell, even he thought he was a coward. But anyone who saw what he endured would give Stan a fucking medal of honor.  


Since last month, his life had gone to shit. The summer 2 years before then had sucked, however it strengthened the relationship between him and the rest of his friends. Sure, he occasionally wanted to rip his face of due to the scars that circled around his face, he even had nightmares every now and then. It was a type of pain that hurt, but he knew the other 6 felt the same way, and he knew they’d always have his back.  


But, ever since last month, Richie had started dating Eddie. This was a different pain. He knew the others didn’t feel the same way, and he didn’t know if they’d always have his back. To top it all off, someone set fire to the synagogue his father was the rabbi at, which increased tensions at home. His father was known to occasionally enjoy a glass of wine, but ever since the incident, it had gotten worse. It was to the point where he’d get up into Stan’s face and call him any demeaning words he could think of.  


His father had hit him once, when he had returned late from work. His mother had been out grocery shopping, and his dad insisted Stan was out with his friends that his father didn’t approve of. His father touched a nerve at one point, causing Stan’s voice to rise, and a quick, solid punch had landed hard across his cheek.  
Stan had gone to school the next day with a huge, ugly black bruise on his face, but all of the losers (except Bev) were too busy being excited about homecoming to make sure he was okay.  


He had remembered his face hurting, but when Richie asked Eddie out to homecoming, he remembered the pain abruptly stopping, instead swelling in his heart.  


And Stan left, without a word.  


Not even 24 hours after the first time his dad hit him, he ditched for the first time. He sat in his old jeep, tears rolling down his face, his shoulders shaking with sobs. The sound of a bell went off, and Stan thought glumly about his next class, AP American History, and he wondered if Richie would even notice he was gone, since Eddie was in the class, too.  


He took 7 shaky breaths, old habits getting the best of him, and he stopped crying. He looked to the front of the school, and thought about the years spent here, it was crazy to think that it was almost over.  


His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh knock on his car window, and before he even had time to stress about who it might be, he turned to see the face of Henry Bowers smiling at him.

“You come here to beat me up?”  


Henry snorted, smoke coming out of his mouth. He dropped the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with the toe of his boots. He adjusted his leather jacket before speaking.  


“Stan-”  


“Stanley.” He corrected the boy, remembering the years of torment he had put him through.  


“Okay… Stanley, I just wanted to check on you. It’s not like you to ditch.” He shrugged.  


“How do you know what’s like me?”  


“Okay, want to know the truth? I saw you crying. I wanted to check on you.”  


“That doesn’t seem like you,” Stan answered, an eyebrow raised.  


Henry only smirked. “How do you know what’s like me?”

Stan’s laugh hung odd in the air, considering the two people in question. It was preposterous, the bully and his victim finally getting along. 

“Hey, Stanley, I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. Like really sorry. Me and my friends were shitheads two years ago.” 

Stan scoffed before replying. “You’re telling me.” 

“So what’s up?” 

“I’m trying to avoid what just happened as much as I can, so I’d prefer not talking or thinking about it.” Stan said, placing a hand lightly on his forehead. 

“Ah, I’m sorry. That sucks balls man.” 

Stan felt his eyebrows raise at the weird statement. 

“You want me to make you forget about it?” Henry finished, casually. 

Stan’s face contorted into one of horror, as Henry turned as red as a tomato. 

“Not like that! I was just thinking we could go get food or something! Jesus Christ!” 

As Henry looked terrified, Stan broke down laughing again. Henry joined in, leaning on Stan’s car to stop him from falling over. As he wiped tears from his eyes, Stan smiled. 

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” 

Henry’s truck was black, rusty, and huge. 

In fact, Stan had to stop himself from laughing at the situation again. He had ditched class, with Henry Bowers of all people, and was going who knows where. Henry looked through the back seat and eventually pulled out a mixtape. Stan wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe rock, or hardcore metal. Instead, disco music flooded the speakers, which Stan recognized as the beginning of Dancing Queen. And once more, Stan had to brace himself from laughing. 

“So, where we headed, Stanley?” Henry asked, turning down the music slightly. 

“I think you can call me Stan.” 

“Okay, Stan.” Henry beamed, like a proud little kid. 

Stan had no clue what he was expecting when he ditched class, or when Henry approached him, but having this much fun certainly wasn’t anything near what he would’ve imagined.


	2. hidden paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stan goes home. tw for domestic abuse/ violence and in general poorly written scenes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im real bad at writing and this is short so i apologize

30 minutes later, Stan and Henry found themselves in the parking lot of a Wendy’s. They were sitting in the truck’s bed, Henry smoking another cigarette while Stan finished his chocolate frosty.  
“Are your folks gonna flip over you skipping?” Henry asked after a long drag.   
“Shit, I didn’t even think about that.” Stan shivered. If his father had hit him when he back talked, he couldn’t imagine the backlash he would get for ‘tainting his image’. After some thought he replied “definitely.”  
“Do you want to go back so they don’t call?” Henry offered helpfully.   
After some thought, Stan shook his head. “Fuck it.”  
“That’s the spirit!” Henry shouted cranking up the disco music. “Fuck it!”  
Stan laughed. “I’m making you a new tape as soon as I get home.”  
“What’s wrong with this?” Henry said, eyebrows raised.   
Stan just shook his head.   
The two boys sat in silence for a while. Stan thought it was nice, the quiet.   
“Henry?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Thank you.”  
“No problem, bud.”  
Stan felt truly happy, and he hadn’t for a while. He was trying his hardest not to think about the other losers back at school, especially Richie. He glanced through the trucks back window, glancing at the time. 2:30. He would be halfway through his last class of the day, the only class he has with just Richie. He wondered if Richie would even notice he wasn’t there.  
He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about Richie. He knew he was lying to himself, but it felt good to pretend.   
“We should probably head back, so you can drive home at a normal time.” Henry said, crawling out of the trunk.   
Stan frowned. It felt good to get away for a little while, but he had to return back to the chaos he left back at school. This day was a hidden island, he could run away for however long he wanted but the problems would always be there.   
They drove back to the school mainly in silence, a comment here and there, and a rendition of Dancing Queen, dancing and all.  
They pulled up to the shitty building, Stan quickly grabbed his things and pulled $10 out of his wallet. He handed it to Henry, and thanked him for the drive and Wendy’s, however Henry refused to take it. After staring at him for a moment in shock, the bell signaling the end of the school day wrung out, causing Stan to shake out of it.   
“Thanks again.” Stan said grabbing his keys. “I had a lot of fun.”  
“Of course! Anytime, pal.”  
Stan opened the door before pausing.  
“You know what? You’re not so bad, Henry.”  
“Thanks?” Henry said, laughing slightly.   
Stan jumped out of the car and waved, while Henry quickly backed up and pulled out. The other students had come out steadily at this point, so he strained his eyes looking for his car. As he turned around, he saw Bev, Eddie, and Richie gawking at him, and his stomach flipped.   
He didn’t even consider how they would feel about spending time with Henry. He prayed they wouldn’t be mad, he already had enough to deal with. Shaking his head, he turned back around, finally finding his car, and got in.   
He felt on the verge of a panic attack, his friends probably hated him, and his dad was going to be so pissed when he got home. He had no clue what to even anticipate, which was, of course, horrifying.   
When he pulled up to the driveway, he thought he might throw up.   
All he wanted to do was to forget about Richie for more than 10 minutes- but it seemed like he forgot everything else instead. He was so busy wanting to leave, he forgot what would happen if he did. He hit himself on the forehead. He was foolish.   
He opened the front door to find the house completely empty, meaning that no one was there to get the phone call. Thank god.   
He let out a hysterical sigh.   
Stan checked once more that there was no one home, and headed up to his room, throwing himself in his bed. Sleep found him quickly. 

Stan was dreaming before he was woke up, a beautiful, light dream, that he couldn’t completely recall, but knew he didn’t want to wake up from. However, he wasn’t that lucky. Before he knew what was happening, he was thrown to the ground, his head hitting his bed post, causing him to groggily open his eyes. Standing above him was his father, in all his drunken glory.   
“Got an interesting phone call today from your school, Stanley.”  
“D-dad please, I can explain-”  
He hit Stan hard across his face.   
“Unacceptable. I will not allow this behavior in my house!” He picked Stan up from his sweater and slammed him against the wall repeatedly.   
“Do,” slam “I,” slam “make” slam “myself,” slam “clear.”  
Stan uttered a “Yes sir.” Before blacking out. 

Stan awoke the next morning a heaping mess on the floor. He vividly remembered what had happened the night prior, a dull throb still aching in his bones. He wanted to cry, or scream, or run away, but all he could feel was numb.   
Shakily, he pushed himself up from the floor and walked like a drunk 11 year old to the bathroom where he examined the damage.   
His cheek was even more bruised now, the one from a few nights ago and the new one blending together like watercolor paints, nearly his entire back was bruised, and on top of it all, his insides felt like shit.   
He wanted nothing more but to stay home for just one day, but he didn’t need another bruise for the collection. So he sucked it up, got dressed and rode his bike to school.   
Today was going to suck.


End file.
